


A Kiss Promised

by Hold_en



Series: More than just a kiss [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Dubcon Kissing, F/M, Holidays, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 01:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17034004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hold_en/pseuds/Hold_en
Summary: When Neville Longbottom creates an enchanted mistletoe in hopes of winning Hannah's affections, he has no idea of the ramifications of such a creation. Especially on the likes of Hermione Granger and Severus Snape.A sweet little Christmas ficlet for my beloved readers. Obviously AU.





	1. Part 1

 

 

Neville sat inside the empty Greenhouse Three, looking out at the blanket of snow. The flakes danced lazily down from a darkening sky. It was almost time.

Neville sighed before looking down at the small bushel he’d been cultivating for months. It sat in front of him drooping and sad. The red berries seemed listless and the green of the plant seemed paled as if it hadn’t seen sunlight. It had been an arduous, tedious project that he had decided upon the first month he’d returned to Hogwarts to complete his final year.

Along with him was Hermione Granger, Christine Rowan and a few Ravenclaws that they didn’t speak much to. Of course Ginny and Luna were finishing their final year as well, so it was always nice to have a bit of overlap with old friends.  

Hannah Abbot had also come back for her final year with strong interest in Herbology as she fancied a career as a Healer. Having a strong background in Herbology would help with salves and more. With her light dusting of freckles and golden silken hair often put into plaits that framed her lovely face, she was a lovely sight.

During their first day of Herbology, Hannah had chosen to sit herself next to Neville and offer him a shy smile. The two bonded over their hesitation to resit their final year, but that they were glad they’d done so. When Professor Sprout announced they would be extracting _flobborworm pus_ to be grafted along with some cedar sprouts, Hannah was delighted having had extensive experience in doing so in her earlier years to help the other students with acne. By the end of the lesson which included much focus, hand bumping and bashful smiles, Neville was utterly smitten.

And so was the case of this large sprig of enchanted mistletoe in his possession. He’d been working on it since early September trying to get it to operate how he wanted. And combined with the rare mistletoe plant he’d found to start it, it was sure to be effective.  It was worth all the galleons he’d spent ordering from the rare plants catalogue.

Despite the easy way that he could speak with Hannah, Neville was entirely too nervous to actually do anything about furthering their relationship into something romantic. But this –this would help. This mistletoe would be sure to set the two of them together. And now, tonight at the Christmas dance was his chance.  

All he had to do was catch her under it.  True feelings couldn’t be denied under such a powerful spell. It was ancient magic – a spell he’d found. This spell ensured whomever stood under the mistletoe and was well matched would be compelled to kiss. And not just any kiss -  a kiss of true passion!

Neville was certain that Hannah was right for him. She was brilliant and sweet and she seemed to fancy spending time with him. And if for whatever reason she declined, then he could laugh it off as general Christmas merriment without being humiliated. She didn’t need to know that he’d been the one to create it.  

He brought his wand up then, making a small sideways 8 overtop the mistletoe as he spoke in the incantation.

“ _Osculum A promiserat_ ,” he whispered. The plant seemed to shimmer under the spell, growing a deeper shade of green, it’s berries turning into plump red delights before his very eyes. He smiled toothily, imagining what would happen when Hannah and he kissed. If the mistletoe worked, it would be a kiss of the passion he had only dreamed about.

Something caught his eye then, a tall and solemn figure marching about the grounds with his black robes billowing behind him. Even now, after all they’d been through and seen Neville suppressed a shudder at the sight of the man.

***

Severus Snape was still alive and still as embittered as ever. Forced to stay on as Potions professor after the war under the thinly veiled threat of Minerva McGonagall going to every press outlet in the country to announce him a hero of Byronic proportions.

And now, forced to chaperone a ridiculous Christmas party that the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Annoy-Him and his redheaded fop of a friend would be attending. A celebration of both seasonal tidings and a chance for Harry Potter, Auror-in-Training, to have plenty of photo opportunities.

Snape sneered at this thought, his eyes dark and narrowed as he moved into the busy hallway.  He had done right by Lily and now the obsessive thoughts of her seemed to have been ebbing. He was ready to start moving on with his life. But how was he to do it stuck inside the hellish landscape? Where every brick reminded him of her and the life he’d led? One of Minerva’s little punishments, he mused. The woman was far more Slytherin than she let on.

As he contemplated the subtle evil ways of Minerva McGonagall, a figure of dark cloak and bushy hair rushed by him, shouldering him rudely and causing the figure to drop the armload of books she had been carrying.  They went flying across the stone floor and she immediately winced as she saw who she’d run into.

“Oh Professor Snape, I’m so sorry.”

Hermione Granger bent down to retrieve her books that had fallen. Snape stood watching this silently, his hands at fists at his sides. Would this girl ever not be a thorn in his side? Hands up in the air every time a bloody question was asked. Those wide, hopeful eyes just waiting for his praise – which would never come.  Even now at eighteen she was still desperate to please her Professors, ardent in her desire to impress.

She annoyed him in every possible way and she was by far his most exhausting student. She was the type of student to rattle off an answer to make herself look clever – never giving her classmates a chance. And when he pointed out such a fact she seemed to take it personally, as if by observing her need to show off was a personal attack and not a chance for her to take stock in what he was saying.

“I’m afraid I was in such a rush I didn’t see you standing there. I was just on my way to return these before the party,” Hermione said, scrambling to her feet with the books. Parts of her wild hair stuck to her damp temples. “I don’t want Madame Pince-“

“Do you really think I care what your evening activities consist of, Miss Granger?” Snape bit in, secretly enjoying the embarrassed red that suffused her cheeks. Served the chit right. She bit the inside of her cheek in irritation before speaking.

“No sir.”

“Then why are you boring me with such trivialities?”

Hermione was silent, watching him from under her fringe with a silent irritation. After all they had done for him – championed him at the Wizengamot so that he’d not rot away in Azkaban- and this was how he repaid them? By being the same, sour miserable git he always was? What point was there in even saving the tosser?

“I apologize sir,” Hermione said through clenched teeth, not meaning a word.

What was it about him that irritated her so much? Perhaps that she had always defended him! Even in his worst moments through the years and yet he gave her no indication that he cared. If anything he seemed to _resent_ her. Resented that she and Pomfrey had found him dying in that shack the night Voldemort fell. Angry that she’d help to shove the beazor down his throat. Furious that she’d helped Pomfrey with salves and potions and more for the next twenty-four-hours to ensure that he’d survive.

And yet now here he stood, giving her the most supercilious of looks down that ugly nose of his. He’d never even _thanked_ her! It made her want to throttle him. And yet she stood there under his heavy gaze, outwardly polite even though her simmering frustration must have been palpable.

Without a further word to her, Snape gave a darkening look before stalking down the hall and around the corner. When he was fully out of her sight, Hermione gave a small relieved sigh and turned her attention to more enjoyable pursuits. With Ron and Harry attending the Christmas party, they were sure to all have a wonderful time of catch up and fond remembrance of happier times.

And no one, not even Snape the Scrooge was going to spoil that!


	2. Part 2

 

Hermione turned and glanced at herself in the mirror of her room with a smile of satisfaction. She had decided on a black form fitting dress robe that showed her figure to its most flattering. It wasn't quite to her taste, but Ron would like it.  A pair of modest heels, a spritz of fragrance on her wrist and throat and she was ready to meet Ginny in the common room.

She knew she’d be seeing Ron tonight and that thought alone caused her heart to trip a beat as she made her way down the steps. Ron and Harry had been so caught up in Auror training that she hadn’t had a chance to see much of them and this was to be a big reunion in more ways than one. 

They’d shared that kiss during the final battle. A kiss that was heavy with promise for their future together. His training and her going to Australia for her parents had kept them worlds apart for the summer and this semester, but she’d written to him at least once a week since then. His replies had been short and sporadic, but then again that was Ron wasn’t it? To the point and a bit forgetful at times. She didn’t mind. That was part of his charm as far as she was concerned.

She rounded the corner and her friend came into view. Ginny was a picture of youthful beauty, all rosy cheeked and pink lipped. It was apparent she had put a lot of time into her outfit – and it was no wonder. When you were on the arm of Harry Potter, you were anything but invisible and she had to look the part.

“Hermione,” Ginny breathed, her eyes large and luminous as her friend came into view. “You look beautiful!”

Hermione knew that the girl was being gracious. Hermione Granger would never be ‘beautiful’ but tonight she was downright passable. Her looks had never been something she’d given much thought to- not when there were so many good books to be read! Who wanted to waste their time with makeup products? It was bad enough that she’d gone and put _Sleekeaz_ y through her hair tonight, taming her curls into something respectable.

“You look amazing,” Hermione said with sincerity as she took in the girl’s mature chignon and crimson dress robe. “Harry is going to go mad! Not that you’d need to dress up for him to do that. We all know how wild he is about you!”

Ginny pinked prettily, for everyone knew of their burgeoning romance. Ginny often confided in Hermione about all things romantic, much to Hermione’s dismay. She was no Lavender Brown – she had no experience to speak of. But she was a good listener and for that Ginny was more than grateful.

Only Hermione know that Ginny and Harry had spent the summer together, so their relationship was on the fast track to serious. And that summer had been the one where Harry and Ginny laid claim together in every possibly carnal way.

 It was a good thing the _Daily Prophet_ was no longer allowed on Hogwarts grounds, otherwise Ginny would be continually hounded from class to class for an exclusive.

“One little addition for you, Granger,” Ginny said, looking through her purse and bringing out a lippy. She saw Hermione frown and laughed gently. “Trust me. Ron has always been mad about a girl with a bright red lippy.”

Hermione was surprised to hear this, but she allowed Ginny to apply to product to her lips, obeying as her friend told her not to touch her mouth much that evening for fear of smudging. When she was finished Hermione glanced into the nearby mirror and was delighted to see that the lipstick did suit her. It was almost like a piece of armor – readying her for a very nerve wracking battle.

“Are you ready?” Ginny said with a broad smile, unable to keep the excitement contained as she hooked her elbow into Hermione’s. “The boys said they’re meeting us outside the Great Hall.”

“I can’t wait!”

Hermione and Ginny went arm and arm through the portrait hole, the two of them giggling as they went.

***

Neville felt ready to vomit.

It was minutes before the party was to start and he had just managed to affix the mistletoe up high in one of the archways near the side entrance without getting caught. He needed it in the Great Hall, but not where every single student would pass it, otherwise he’d never get a chance with Hannah. It blended quite nicely with the rest of the décor which was resplendent greenery and lights. A large Christmas tree stood in the center of the room, decorated with twinkling lights and enchanted baubles that sang as they twisted.

He smoothed down his dress robe, thinking he looked quite dapper. He had done his best with his hair and he made sure he smelled good. He was also chewing a mint thoroughly – it would do no good to have Hannah kiss him and complain afterward that his breath was worse than fetid pumpkin juice.

He hadn’t asked her to the party. Not properly. They had mentioned that they would see each other that evening, but that’s as far as their plans had gone. A horrible thought gripped him then- what if she was going with someone else? It wasn’t a formal dance or anything like the sort, but still what if she’d gone and landed a date?

The thought made Neville queasy as he walked out into the foyer to wait for his friends. His hands were in the pockets of his robes as he stood there, looking sad and pathetic while he thought of things to say to Hannah.  The gift he’d bought her was wrapped and in his right robe pocket. It wasn’t obvious, so if he changed his mind she’d never even know he’d brought it.

“Neville!”

Neville whipped around to see Harry Potter making a beeline for him. The two gave a brief hug before smiling widely.  Students whispered around them at the sight before heading into the party where music had begun and the scent of cinnamon and gingerbread was filling the air.

“It’s so good to see you!” the boys said in unison before laughing heartily. The months since the defeat of Voldemort had changed them both into men and they were keen to recognize it. Harry had settled into it while Neville had a ways to go.

“ _How are classes?”_

_“How is Auror training?”_

_“Have you created any interesting projects?”_

_“Have you arrested anyone yet?”_

The two spoke over one another, desperate to see what the road they’d not travelled was like.  They only stopped when Hannah Abbot came into view and Neville suddenly stopped mid-sentence. Harry’s eyes travelled to where Neville’s gaze landed and he held in a smirk.

“Aren’t you going to talk to her?” Harry asked when several moments had gone by. Hannah was talking to another girl in their year, just out of earshot.  She was dressed in a mustard colored gown that offset her featured perfectly. She was even more beautiful than Neville ever recalled seeing her. And much to his relief, she was unaccompanied. 

“Erm,” Neville barely made out the word as it seemed stuck in his throat. “Well, it’s just-“

 “You need to be confident,” Harry reminded his friend gently. Neville had all the makings of a leading man – he just suffered from a crisis of confidence and needed a little bolstering. “Trust me, Neville.”

_Confident._

Neville tried to search his mind for a confident role model but was coming up short. Harry was brave but confidence around women had never been a strong suit. Nor for Ron or any of his mates in Gryffindor. A sudden inspiration hit him.

_Malfoy._

Yes, the boy known as Draco was a horrid monster and thankfully no longer a student, but he also had more confidence with women in his pinky finger than Neville had in his whole body. He simply needed to imitate that confidence and surely Hannah would fall for him! He may not even need the ruddy mistletoe.

“You helped to defeat Voldemort,” Harry whispered to the young man. “You can do this.”

At this Neville took a deep breath. It was true wasn’t it? He had helped to defeat the monster of all monsters! And here he was being a simpering dolt over a girl. Well no more! He was going to channel all the Malfoy he could. For Hannah, it was worth it.  

“Hannah,” he said over Harry’s head, his voice broad and confident. Hannah stopped her conversation to look over to Neville in surprise. Harry watched as his friend waltzed over to Hannah, interrupting the conversation she’d been having with her friend and causing Hannah to blush and look at her shoes. Harry smirked to himself when his view was sudden drawn to the two figures coming down the stairs.

His heart hammered in his chest as Ginny came into view, looking radiant as always. She gave a squeal of excitement that caused several sixth years to turn in surprise as the young woman launched herself into the very welcome arms of Harry Potter.

Hermione approached slowly, watching the young lovers a bit enviously as they reunited.  She looked over their shoulders to see the party had already begun with students and staff dancing to some lovely festive tunes. The entire hall was lit with thousands of floating candles around green garland that hung off of every flat surface. The tables were filled to the brim with delicious looking food and Hermione felt her heart melt. There was something about this time of year that always cheered her.

“Where’s Ron?” Hermione asked, trying to appear nonchalant. At the mention of his friend, Harry seemed to falter, even as Ginny peppered his face with eager kisses.

“He’s on his way. Hermione, actually I-“

Before he could say anything more, the familiar sounds of Ron’s laughter pealed through the hallways. Hermione smiled broadly, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear in habit before she took a breath and turned.

There was Ron. Tall and lanky, freckled and messy-haired. Just as she’d always known him. Her dearest friend. He’d dressed in newer robes – his finances obviously doing well now that he was an Auror in training. She was about to rush over to him much as Ginny had done to Harry when she stopped.

A young witch walked up beside him, placing her hand in his as they continued to talk. She was blonde and leggy and everything Hermione wasn’t. It was as if all the air in the room had been sucked out and she felt her head begin to pound.

This was wrong. It was all wrong.

“I wanted to tell you,” Harry said, disentangling himself from a properly shocked Ginny. “But it all happened so fast…”

Hermione felt the tears at the back of her eyes which she bit back furiously, completely deaf to whatever else Harry was saying. Ron and the blonde approached, looking to the group eagerly. Without warning Ron had gathered Hermione into a gentle hug.

“It’s so good to see you,” Ron said, pressing a chaste kiss to her temple before pulling back and doing the same to his sister.  “I’ve missed you both so much.”

“You’ve been busy,” Ginny offered kindly, trying not to appear too uncomfortable. She glanced at the blonde woman meaningfully. “ _Very_ busy, it would seem.”

Hermione was still silently staring at the two of them, feeling idiotic and remarkably like an outsider between the two couples. As if he caught on to his sister’s meaning, Ron tapped his forehead with the heel of his palm dramatically.

“Oh of course, I’m so rude. Everyone, this is Candace,” Ron said with a soppy grin in the blonde’s direction. “We met in Auror training. She’s a year ahead of Harry and me.”

The girl gave Hermione a bright smile before nodding in her direction and extending a perfectly manicured hand in Hermione’s direction. Neville and Hannah stood watching the scene, for it seemed obvious to everyone that Hermione and Ron had been destined for years. To see this new figure was causing everyone to feel a bit out of sorts. Even Harry was having trouble meeting his friend’s eyes.

“Pleased to meet you,” the girl said with a tinkling chime of a voice as they shook hands. “I love your lipstick!”

Even her grip was delicate and Hermione hated herself for not trying to do something with her own nails.  Suddenly the makeup she wore seemed garish and totally unlike her and she wanted to wipe it away that moment.

“You never wear makeup,” Ron said, looking to Hermione as if she’d grown another head. “Especially not something like that.”

Hermione could only be painfully aware of her own dowdy robes, barely thought of hair and pale face. It was like a candle trying to outshine the sun.

“Oh I just wanted to try something different,” she trilled. She felt pitiful and wanted nothing more than to run from them and only her pride kept her in place. She felt Ginny’s hand snake around her own as the group began to start in on work conversation.

“ _I never knew_ ,” Ginny whispered lowly into Hermione’s ear. “ _He’s never mentioned her_.”

Hermione shot her friend a look that said  “ _oh not a bother_!” but inside she was wailing and desperate to leave. The boy she’d always cared for, the boy she’d almost thought she’d loved was here with another woman and looking at her as if she hung the moon.

“I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you both,” Candace continued with sincerity as she looked from Ginny to Hermione. “From both of the lads of course. But Ronny here is forever singing your praises, Hermione! It’s enough to make a girl jealous!”

She gave a small tinkling laugh at that as if the idea of being jealous over Hermione was laughable.

_Ronny?_

 As if in slow motion Candace and Ron tilted their faces to one another and she pressed a gentle kiss upon his eager lips.  He smiled stupidly, sighing as if he were some lovesick fool. The dagger in her stomach twisted hideously and Hermione did everything she could to school her features.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to get a drink. I’ll see you all inside.” She was ashamed at how breathless she sounded. She pulled from Ginny’s loosened grip and headed for the punch bowl, her cheeks as red as the lipstick she wore.

***

Snape stood surveying the staff and students with a bored expression. He had promised Minerva he would attend for an hour. An hour and then he was gone to relax with a good book, a glass of elf-made wine and a roaring fire. The students left tomorrow for winter holidays and he couldn’t wait for the peace and quiet.

However he had over a half hour remaining by his count and the students were behaving themselves for the most part. The punch hadn’t been spiked, the gifts exchanged hadn’t come from Weasley’s horrid Emporium, and the couples were affectionate but not in the way that suggested interference.

Minerva stood to the side with Sinistra and Hagrid, laughing merrily to herself. She felt Snape’s stare on her and silently encouraged that he join them in their frivolity. He pretended not to have seen her, crossing his arms and staring into the sea of faces before making his way over to the punch bowl.

He poured himself a glass and drank slowly. He wanted to look busy lest any other faculty try to talk to him. He didn’t feel like it. He wanted to be left alone to do his chaperoning and then to make his escape. And as if on cue, a red-faced Hermione Granger moved past him to grab a cup of punch.

Normally he took no notice of the girl, and if it hadn’t been for the garish red on her lips he still might not have. She downed the punch, her breathing hitched. She was flustered, that much he could tell. He was about to question it when the doors opened and a small flurry of animated speaking was heard. Harry Potter had entered with the Weasley girl. And along with him, his red-haired friend holding the hand of a very beautiful blonde woman.  

Ah, so that was it. The Weasley boy’s companion.

He glanced from behind his curtain of dark hair to see as the girl hurriedly wiped the offending red product from her mouth with the back of her hand, her eyes never leaving the duo. He heard her groan slightly, a sad, plaintive sound and was immediately annoyed. It was bad enough he had to attend this ridiculous party, he wouldn't have this girl bemoaning her life within earshot. If she wanted to be miserable she could go back to her rooms.

At least one of them could leave. 

“If you feel the need to moon over your lost love I suggest you do it elsewhere,” Snape sniped, ignoring the girl’s shiny eyes. She glanced up at him as if noticing he was there for the first time. At first her face registered shock until she’d heard what he said and she looked furious.

“I hardly think you’re the typ-,” Hermione started, about to bite back with something acidic when there was the unmistakable sound of a hand across flesh.

The commotion distracted them both and their attention was drawn to the dance floor. Neville and Hannah stood in the center of the dance floor. Couples around them danced slowly, and Neville was holding a hand to his the blooming red patch on his cheek. Hannah looked beside herself, screaming at him.

“I don’t know what’s happened to you Neville,” Hannah said hotly, her eyes narrowed on Neville’s tall form. “But I don’t like it. I’d rather spend the night collecting flobberworm pus than spend another second hearing you brag and try to grope me!”

With that she had pulled her remaining hand from a shocked Neville’s grip and stormed off. Neville gaped after her a moment before he realized what was happening and rushed off after her calling her name. Hermione watched this with a pang for her friend.

Snape seemed to be controlling his features well, for not even a smirk had crossed his pale face. But Hermione was in a terrible mood and she didn’t care about the fact that he was trying his best to be polite.

“I’m sure you just loved that,” Hermione huffed, downing another cup of the aromatic punch as if it were firewhiskey. Snape turned to her in surprise. He’d never had Hermione Granger speak to him in such an impertinent tone. He raised an eyebrow of question in her direction.

“Seeing Neville humiliated like that,” Hermione continued, feeling as if even the ends of her hair crackled with intensity.  “I bet you absolutely _loved_ it.”

Snape stared at Hermione a long moment, long enough for the girl to falter under the tall man’s scrutiny. His eyes were black and fathomless and she momentarily found herself falling victim to such a frigid gaze.

“You know nothing about me,” he said just above a whisper, his voice filled with menace. “Don’t presume to know my mind. Ten points from Gryffindor for disrespecting a teacher.”

With that he’d whirled from her, making his way across the room to engage in a combative conversation with Minerva McGonagall. Hermione made a face at his back, only to school her features when Ginny came rushing over.

“I managed to sneak away,” Ginny said, looking to her friend with concern. “What happened? I thought you and Ron were together!”

Hermione paused a moment, her mind frantically going over the past few months.  Had they been together? Aside from that kiss and a few short talks before her trip had they actually said anything solid?

“He never promised anything,” Hermione finally said to Ginny, her voice wobbling and praying they weren’t overheard. “We just kissed is all. Then we’ve been apart since then since we’ve been so busy. We wrote letters but… Nothing was said, but I thought forever implied. I’m such a fool, Ginny.”

“You’re not a fool. My brother is a dolt,” Ginny said, gathering her friends hands in her own. “He’s an idiot and if he doesn’t see how wonderful you are, then sod him.”

“But that’s the worst part,” Hermione said, the tears spilling down her cheeks. She brushed them away angrily. “I realized that I’ve been carrying a torch for a _memory_. For a man I _thought_ was right for me. And when I saw him tonight, even before I saw Candace I felt… nothing. I’d been building him up so much in my head these past few months that when I saw him all I could think was, ‘ _there is my dearest friend_ ’. As if he’d been Harry or Neville.”

Ginny looked to her friend pityingly, seeing the girl’s confused shame washing across her cheeks.

“I’m so confused,” Hermione almost whimpered. “I thought I fancied him. I thought… I thought we were fated in some way. Even when I didn’t feel the spark you described you feel with Harry, I just assumed I was more practical. That I wasn’t as flowery and sappy. But tonight…. It just solidified what I’d been afraid of for a long time. Oh, I feel like such a bint. I just want to go back to my rooms. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that she made move to leave, only to have the iron grip of Ginny on her elbow, holding her in place.

“Hermione Jean Granger,” Ginny insisted, her small foot stamping the ground below. “You are not going to your room. You are going to stay with me this evening. You are going to drink punch and have fun and exchange gifts and have a happy Christmas party. And time permitting; we are going to find you a new wizard. One that you don’t have to convince yourself you fancy.”

 “I don’t want a new wizard,” Hermione said, her cheeks red. “I want to just put this awful night out of my mind. I’m sorry Ginny, I’ve really got to go. I’m just going to slip out the side door. Please tell the boys I’ve come down with a cold and that I’ll visit them in the new year.”

Ginny loosened her grip on Hermione and watched as the older girl march towards the side entrance of the Great Hall. Her countenance grim and her footsteps were hurried as she weaved her way through the throng of dancing students.

***

“This entire evening is a farce,” Snape said as he approached Minerva, his voice a rumbling growl. She turned her gaze on him, a most patronizing one at that. He noticed with distaste that she’d transfigured her normal hat into a pointed St. Nicholas cap.  The other teachers who witnessed his advance were already gone, scattered around the room.

“Good evening Severus.”

“Enough of your Christmas cheer,” Snape replied, his teeth clenched. “Why am I here, Minerva? It’s clear you don’t need me at this event as chaperone. Every faculty member of the castle is here to watch the brats.”

“Yes they are,” Minerva said with a prim smile. “Just as I wished.”

“Then I may go,” he said, making his way to leave when he heard her cluck her tongue disapprovingly, the same way she’d done when he was a lad. He glowered as he turned to face her, fixing the old woman with his moth withering glare.

“Oh put that face away,” she said good-naturedly. “It does little to disturb me. I’m not one of your students, _Professo_ r. I wanted you here because you needed a chance to get out and have some fun.”

“Fun. Watching a bunch of spoiled-“

“Eating good food, chatting with your colleagues, not having to mark essays,” Minerva interrupted. “You hide yourself away in those dungeons. You’re like a plant that thrives in the dark. It’s as if you’re afraid the sunlight will cause you to wilt. You’re here because I want you to thrive, not wilt away to nothing.”

The blood began to pump through his veins in an alarming rate at her words. Imagine the gall of telling him how to live his life! Before he could say or do anything Minerva had stepped closer to him, her voice dropping so that it was only the two of them that could be heard between them.

“Do you know why I insisted you stay on as Professor here, Severus?”

“Cruel and unusual punishment?” he drawled.

“Because I knew you’d say yes,” she said flatly. “That if I asked you, you would do so simply out of obligation to this place and to Albus.”

Snape could feel a mighty tremble of ire flow through his veins at that. So that was it – she had manipulated him just as Albus and Tom had done so many years ago.  He wanted to rush from her, to give his notice right then and there. He was about to say something monstrous when she glanced up to him, her gaze giving him pause.

“And because if I let you go, I was worried about what you’d do,” she continued simply, her eyes growing damp. “I was worried you’d turn in on yourself. That you’d do something drastic and awful. I wanted you close at hand to make sure that didn’t happen.”

“To monitor me,” he said with a sneer. So that was it- was he never to be free of being monitored? Even within this sanctuary of sorts, he was being monitored by a woman who claimed he wasn’t her prisoner. What a laugh that was. 

“To _protect_ you,” she replied quickly and he was surprised to see the tears at the corner of her wizened eyes. “I’ve always felt a motherly concern for you, Severus. As if you were my own son. Ever since you started at Hogwarts as a lost little boy.”

All fury that had been encompassing his person suddenly deflated, leaving him cold and staring at the woman. The woman who had practically just called herself his adoptive mother. A woman who he railed against, who he argued and often laughed with, who he shared wine with and who he hated to disappoint. When she’d called him a ‘coward’ during the final battle it had stung in ways Nagini’s venom had not.

And now she was standing there, looking to him with such a look of open affection and motherly care that he felt his throat constrict. He had to cough to clear his throat after several moments, noticing that neither had made a move to say anything more.

“I’m going to patrol the grounds for students,” Snape grumbled, pulling on his gloves from his pocket, unable to meet her eyes any longer. “Seeing as how matricide is quite looked down upon during the holidays.”

With that he marched away from the woman, but not before he saw the small grin that had crossed Minerva’s face.


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas dearest readers! Thank you for all your fine comments, your sweet observations and your ability to make a rubbish day better just by leaving your feedback on my stories! I hope you enjoy the ending to this sweet Christmas tale! xx holden
> 
> p.s. A sequel may already be in the works...

 

As she rushed to the side entrance, barely holding back tears, Hermione was surprised to see Severus Snape heading in the same direction. She inwardly groaned and hurried her steps, hoping to beat him. He seemed to be doing the same and it resulted with them coming to the side door of the Hall at the same time.

“Students aren’t permitted to use this door,” Snape hissed, looking at her with disdain. He didn’t know why but she had put him in a terrible mood this evening and he felt combative. Hermione fixed him with her most patient of stares, trying not to upset him further.

“I’m Head Girl,” Hermione reminded him. “I believe I have the privilege, sir.”

“You may have additional privileges as Head Girl,” Snape conceded, moving closer to the door. “But using the staff exit isn’t one of them.”

The two stared at one another a moment, the tension crackling between them before Hermione finally rolled her eyes, not wanting to engage with him any further. The good girl inside of her demanded she retreat, to defer to her professor. But the other part – the part that had gone up against Bellatrix LeStrange and lived to talk about it was tired of his bullying attitude, especially after all she’d done. And worse yet, she could see Ron had seen her and was heading in their direction.

_Fuck this._

Without warning she leapt for the door, flinging it open with intensity. She walked through the threshold only to have Severus follow at her heels, the fury fairly emanating from his lithe form. She had just made it over the threshold when she felt his grip on her wrist, pulling her back, causing her to pause from continuing down the narrowed hallway out of the staff room.

“I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours Miss Granger,” he fairly growled, his grip tightening around her wrist as he slammed the door, stopping her escape. “But this asinine behavior ends now. Detention for a week with Filch, starting tomorrow night. And thirty points from Gryffindor for sheer insolence.”

“Wonderful,” Hermione muttered, closing her eyes. “The perfect end to a perfectly horrid night.”

“Save your theatrics,” he replied sardonically, remarkably frustrated with the girl in front of him. “Now get out of my sight.”

His breath was warm peppermint falling in angry huffs over her face and her eyes popped open. She glowered right back at him, her teeth clenching so tightly she felt her jaw crack. Just looking at him made her want to bring out her wand and hex him into next week. But there was no point, was there? Severus Snape was likely born a recalcitrant bastard and would likely die that way. Hermione bit back every ugly thing she wanted to say to him and made her leave.

Or at least she tried to.

She found she was quite rooted in spot, the wrist of her left arm still within the man’s iron grasp. She tried to dislodge it but it was firmly in his grip. She looked up at him, surprised to see that he wasn’t making any attempt to move.

 “If you want me to leave, sir, I suggest you release me.”

Snape’s brow furrowed before looked down to see his hand was still wrapped around her wrist, much to his surprise. He thought he had loosened it, dropped it quickly. But still his fingers remained clamped around her wrist.

What in Merlin’s name was going on? He tried to tug his hand back, but it was as if it were glued to the girl’s skin. Immediately his heart began to tic along in his chest a bit uneasily. This was not a good sign. This was the sign of magic, and considering the strength it was likely ancient magic.  

He took a moment to take stock of their surroundings. The girl seemed to notice his intensity and fell silent, watching his face. His eyes fell shut a moment as he sensed the binding between them; an energy thrummed around them almost in a bubble, cutting them off from escape.

“Try to move to the left.”

Hermione obeyed silently, her heart beating a tattoo against her ribs.  The way Snape’s eyes had momentarily widened and then closed had her frightened. He was a stoic man, one who didn’t show emotion easily. The two of them shuffled a step to the left awkwardly, his hand still around her wrist.

“Continue, all the way to the far wall.”

They made move to continue to the left, but something stilled them. Like an invisible wall they bumped into roughly. Instead of getting angry however, Snape seemed to contemplate their situation, his eyes narrowing on a space above Hermione’s shoulder.

“Interesting.”

Out of habit, his eyes drew to the arch above them and he held in a groan of disapproval. He was no Herbology student, but he had been a randy lad at one time. And staring down at them was a certain enchanted mistletoe.  In fact the very kind he often used in some of his migraine salves.

“Mistletoe.” The word came out as if he couldn’t stand having it in his mouth. “Enchanted.”

A lump of coal dropped in Hermione’s stomach and the girl’s gaze jerked up to Snape’s coal-black gaze. He stared down at her as it silently reprimanding her for putting them in this predicament.

 “What kind of enchanted?” Hermione asked, her voice strangled. They were so impossibly close. She could feel his breath on her forehead.

“Unsure at this point which exact spell was used,” Snape said, his eyes flitting to the offending plant hanging above their heads. “But it is one that obviously prevents us from parting. Much like any enchanted bind.”

“Perhaps it’s a phrase?” Hermione offered helpfully. “The same put in place for book binds? We simply need to speak aloud the release phrase and we’ll be able to pull apart.”

“Doubtful.”

“It’s worth a try,” she insisted desperately searching her mind. “Humbug, pepper imp, snowflake, peppermint, wreath-“

“Miss Granger.”

“Frosty, Rudolph-“

“Enough,” Snape hissed, not wishing to draw attention to them at the corner of the room, but not wanting to sit through her inane guesses in the meantime.  As if hit by a thunderbolt, Hermione’s body suddenly jolted.

“Oh no,” Hermione suddenly felt her stomach lurch, her eyes falling shut. “I just thought of something. A muggle tradition.”

“Mmm?” Snape didn’t seem to be paying attention to her. Instead his gaze was over the crowd of students that were dancing, talking and thankfully hadn’t noticed the professor and student in the corner by themselves. 

“Mistletoe,” Hermione repeated, her breathing increasing in tempo. “In muggle society it’s tradition to kiss under it.”

_Kiss?_

Snape looked to the girl as if she had grown three heads like Fluffy. Although he was half-muggle himself, the life he grew up in Cokeworth didn’t involve yuletide cheer. In involved his father drinking like a madman before threatening to put his wife up the duff again if she didn’t get off his back with her nagging. Mistletoe, Rudolph and the like weren’t really at the forefront of the holiday.

“You’re suggesting I _kiss_ you,” Snape said with an anguished tone she’d never heard before.  She stared up at him, hearing what he had said but not completely registering it. He looked so downright horrified that she couldn’t help but feel a bit put out. 

“No!” Hermione said, her face growing warm under his intense gaze.  She was about to say something more -about how she had no interest in kissing him either- when she noticed for the first time, the peaks and valley’s of his mouth. The mouth that she had once seen as a straight line reserved for bitter insults was in fact a sensual curve of slopes that drew her eye as never before.

_Sensual? What the fuck?_

“Miss Granger have you lost all the sense you were born with?”

That voice. A voice she had never really noticed before – a dark, seductive purr. Even as he stood there complaining away Hermione was suddenly finding herself aroused at the sound of that deep baritone. It felt as if it were warming her very bones and she held in a shudder before snapping out of it.

_What is wrong with me? When have I ever thought of Snape as sensual? Seduct--- Oh shite._

“Sir I think it’s enchanted to make us kiss,” Hermione said, her cheeks a beacon of red as she realized what was happening. “Whether we want to or not.”

“I saw several students and teachers pass under this very arch on their way to grab punch,” Snape replied derisively. “Why would it choose to subject us specifically to this particular brand of festive horror?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“A first for everything,” he responded with a derisive snort.

“I don’t know that it chose us specifically,” Hermione continued, her brows arched in frustration.

“Besides keeping my hand latched to your wrist I see no other way that it is encouraging us to kiss,” Snape said, irritated at how long this entire spectacle had been going on.  Hermione glanced up at the man through her lashes, suddenly humiliated. Apparently this lust fueled observation was from her side only. How embarrassing.

“Just use your wand then,” Hermione insisted, her voice reaching a high pitch of humiliation and frustration intermingled. “Just get us out of here before people see! Please, sir!”

Snape gave her a dark look at her bossy tone, but knew that there was little alternative.

“Ah yes, my reputation may not survive if we were seen together,” Snape said with deadpan delivery.  He brought out his wand, pointing it above them and did a small swish of his wrist. “ _Diffindo_.”

Severed pieces of the mistletoe rained down on them, some catching in Hermione’s hair. At least no one else would suffer the same horrific fate that they were. But still, his hand remained on her wrist and she was starting to tremble at the realization that the longer this went on, the more horrible it wa 

“Nothing’s happened,” Hermione breathed.

“Brilliant deduction,” was his terse reply. He picked at one of the leaves in her hair, bringing it to his nose and taking a long sniff. Hermione bit back an angry though about his overly large nose when the man’s eyes shuttered close in frustration.

“You’re correct. It is likely encouraging physical contact. And if what you say about muggle mistletoe is correct, then I have every reason to believe that this enchantment will end when we kiss.”

“You can tell all that by smelling it?” Hermione had to admit she was a bit impressed.

“Certain ancient spells leave an odor,” he said casually dropping the leaf to the ground. “Binding spells, especially of the lust variety leave a lingering scent of rose petals. Nothing strong, but a discerning olfactory can sense it.”

“So we kiss,” Hermione said, licking her lips absently. She noticed as Snape’s eyes fell to her mouth a moment before traveling back to her eyes.

"Absolutely not.”

“But sir-”

“You are my student, Miss Granger,” he growled. “Stop that train of thought immediately.”

He didn’t notice the way her eyes were slowly weaving up his body as he spoke. Slowly they started at his boots, unwavering as she shifted from foot to foot, inspecting up his robes until they landed on his left hand dangling at his side. The very hands she had seen for seven years of her life and never thought of them as anything but ordinary.   
  
She viewed the slim and graceful appearing fingers. Each elongated tip, the nails cut respectably and impeccably clean, their pale half moon crescent at the top suddenly more intriguing than the rest of his digit. Strange to think such a small, insignificant piece of a person could go overlooked for so long in seven long years and yet, be so crucial.

“Sir,” she croaked, her throat tightening. “A quick kiss-“

“Enough.”

***

“Hannah!”

Neville was rushing after the girl, but she was slowing down for no one. She bumped into a first year, nearly sending him sailing to the floor and yet she continued, her robes sailing behind her as she stamped away from him.

“Hannah please wait!”

“Get away from me Neville!”

He chased her all the way up to the Astronomy tower, ignoring all her threats of hexing. When they’d finally reached the top and she had nowhere else to run she turned on him, raising her wand threateningly.

“Stop right there, Longbottom,” she ground out, trying her best to seem frightening despite her diminutive size and sweetness of voice.  “Stop right there or I’ll hex your bollocks off!”

Neville stopped immediately, coming a few short yards from the object of his affection. He felt so idiotic. How could he have thought that emulating Draco Malfoy could lead to anything other than disaster? Had he really been that desperate?

“I’m sorry,” Neville said, standing across from her in the falling snow, not even noticing the chill. “I never meant to make you uncomfortable.”

“Then why do it?” Hannah demanded, not lowering her wand. “Why act so abysmally?”

Neville dropped his gaze to the snow covered tower, his cheeks bright pink in the absence of color. He couldn’t explain without sounding like a right bender.  What could he tell her that wouldn’t make him seem pathetic?

“I don’t understand,” Hannah continued her eyes large and confused. “You’re always so sweet in classes. I love talking with you. But tonight? Tonight you were worse than a newborn mountain troll!”

 “I-I just wanted to see if you fancied me like I fancy you,” Neville explained in a rush, feeling the back of his neck grow hot with humiliation. She was right. He’d been a dolt. A rude, braggart of Slytherin proportions.

“You fancy me?”

Hannah’s wand had dropped to her side and she was regarding Neville warily as if he were a blast ended skrewt.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Neville offered with a short laugh. Hannah’s gaze softened as she looked to the humiliated boy in front of her.

“And you decided to show me that by acting an arse?”

“I was… I was trying to be cool,” Neville said, cringing as he said it. It sounded so lame coming out of his mouth.  He closed his eyes, wincing as he continued. “I thought if I bragged about my accomplishments and was more forward you’d-“

Before he could finish the sentence he felt Hannah’s lips lightly cover his own. His eyes flew open just as she stepped back, giving him a shy smile. She took his hand in hers, her cheeks pinking along with his.

“I’ve always thought you were cool, Neville Longbottom.  And of course I fancy you.”

Without a further word she was leading him back into the castle, on their way back to the party. Neville gripped her tightly, staring at her with a remarkably pleased look on his face. The entire way back to the event all he could think was that he wished he’d spent more time actually communicating his feelings with Hannah and less time working on that stupid plant.  

***

The student and Professor stood under the aforementioned stupid plant; she was trying not to notice the length of his black eyelashes and he was searching his mind for a way to get out of their predicament. If he were to ask another one of the staff there would be mockery for years to come. Minerva may help, but how to get her attention without rousing the interest of others?  Besides she was deep in conversation with Vector by the large Christmas tree, shaking a wrapped package to guess what was inside.

 “Cast a _disillusionment charm_ ,” Hermione suddenly urged, her eyes widening.  “Quickly. I left my wand in my room.”

Snape looked to the girl, confused as to where this had come from when he followed her gaze. The Weasley boy and his companion seemed to be making a rush over towards them.  He quickly cast the spell, twisting the wand as if tying them both with rope, but he knew that it wouldn’t work exactly right in this case.

“It’s too late,” he said with a sneer. “They’ve seen you already. The charm doesn’t work that way. I’d expect a know-it-all like yourself to remember that.”

“Fine,” Hermione replied anxiously, looking up to him in desperation. “Then kiss me, sir. Please. Quickly so that we can part.”

Snape looked down at her, his looming form seeming to take up the entire room. She couldn’t help but notice the way his dark eyes had narrowed on her, looking at her with the most uncomfortable look she’d ever seen him wear. 

“What did you just say, Miss Granger?”

“Just a quick peck,” Hermione pleaded, seeing as Ron and Candace were heading in their direction at a rapid speed.  She couldn’t see them tonight- not when she had so much that she was still mixed up about regarding her feelings for Ron.

“Are you out of your mind?” Snape hissed, not believing his ears. “You’re my student!”

“I’m well aware of that!” Hermione replied hotly. “But I’m desperate.”

“How flattering,” Snape replied flatly.

“You know what I mean,” Hermione said, trying desperately to tug from his grip. But nothing was budging, including her Potions professor. He too seemed rooted in place. In panic she gripped him by the sleeve of his robe.

“Please don’t do this to me,” Hermione begged, her eyes wide with dawning horror. “I can’t face Ron tonight. I simply can’t.”

“And why is that?”

“I-“

She didn’t get to finish the thought because at that moment Ron and his girlfriend Candace had swanned over, giving the two of them very strange looks.

“Hermione,” Ron said, looking at Snape’s hand on her wrist, and hers on the arm of his robes before his blue eyes travelled to her pink face. “What’s going on?”

_Think think think._

“We’re dancing,” Hermione spouted loudly, her hand slipping from his robe and into the man’s larger hand. She lifted it until they gave a somewhat convincing scene of two individuals dancing. Snape’s other hand was still around her wrist and she artfully hid it behind her robes, out of sight of the two newcomers gaping at them.

She began swaying gently from side to side, pretending to be immersed in the music. Snape stared down at her cooly, his hands barely gripping hers. He looked as if he were being asked to kiss Nagini straight on the mouth. He wasn’t even trying to convince them of the story she’d made up. In fact, Hermione was sure that to anyone else she looked like she was holding him her prisoner.

“You’re _dancing_ in the corner?”

“Yes.”

“In the dark?”

“Mhmm.”

“With Snape?”

“ _Professor_ Snape,” Hermione replied automatically. She didn’t catch the twitch of a smirk at the corner of the said Professor’s mouth. Ron was staring at the both of them, not quite understanding what he was seeing.

Snape went to say something cutting, something that would make Hermione Granger regret ever setting foot within ten yards of him. He was about to do a host of cruel things when he suddenly noticed her eyes.

They were brown of course, but there was also something more. Snape himself was interested to note that her dark eyes had a rather intriguing quality. When worried -and he assumed angered- the dark chocolate color grew darker, giving her eyes an almost stormy appearance.

Also interesting to note that in those very brown eyes, there was a small, almost unnoticeable fleck of even deeper brown that resided near the darker rim of the orb. It was if there had been a small break in the perfect-rimmed circle and a small, flinted leak had seeped into the lighter brown of her eyes. It couldn't have been larger than three grains of good-sized sand, but now he had noticed it, and was finding it difficult to look away from.

And so he stood there, staring at Hermione before she wrenched from his gaze and looked back to Ron. The boy looked as if he wanted to say something more but he was unable. Candace viewed this, her entire body language suggesting discomfort before she pulled Ron’s arm to her tightly.

“C’mon Ronny,” Candace said, giving Hermione a strained smile. “I want to get something to eat.”

The two pairs stood staring at each other a moment with Hermione trying her best not to look at Snape, or to notice the way his thumb was dancing over her knuckles. A thrill shot through her at the thought that he was touching her of his own volition.

Of his own _desire._

“Go on Mister Weasley,” Snape bit off, irritated at his presence. “Go on with your companion .She looks utterly starved for your scintillating company.”

Candace gave the older man a small polite smile, unaware of the sarcasm that fairly dripped from his words.

 “Erm, okay, see ya later Hermione,” Ron said with an awkward wave. He gave Snape an inscrutable look before he and Candace walked away hand in hand towards the buffet table and Hermione let out a slow sigh of relief.

“Shite.”

“Language,” Snape said without thinking, although he’d been thinking much of the same.  Without warning he let out a small smirk, one that Hermione had never seen before.  A shocked Hermione took a second to drink him in.  

While she had heard that Snape was indeed a 'greasy git' and the rampant rumors of his lack of hair washing were renowned, she had always considered him a rather clean man in general. Why, those very hands that she was entranced with had no calluses, no marks or crude indentations. All that was placed on those finely sculpted canvases were sharp yet delicate looking knuckles leading to long and tapered fingers. Faint brushings of hair existed on the flesh above the knuckle, barely visible.

“You must feel it too, sir.” Hermione’s voice was low and dreamy, her eyes never leaving his. She was finding it harder and harder to keep a clear head about this. Every fiber in her being was screaming to touch more of him, to feel his lips on hers.

"Indeed?" Snape offered, looking to the openly wanton student’s face. He had to look away from that heated gaze of hers. He had the be the rational one. And so he decided to focus on something innocuous; her nose. She had such a straight, small nose, and he briefly wondered what it would be like to trace a fingertip down that straightened slope. Silky was the only word that came to mind.

_Bugger._

“The enchantment,” Hermione continued, their bodies drawing nearer. “I think when we touch the stronger it becomes.”

Snape said nothing, his gaze wrenching away from her face and to the empty space above her head.

“And this hand,” Hermione said, motioning with her head towards the hand she still had in Snape’s, leftovers from their dancing mockery. “It won’t come loose.”

“It seems we are indeed stuck,” Snape said, noticing then that the girl’s pelvis was achingly close to his own body. “And without our hands available for casting I’m afraid we are at a loss.”

He tried to say something more, but found his voice momentarily lost and instead his lips continued to move as if he was speaking. Hermione’s eyes had left his own and were glued onto his sensual, soft looking mouth. He heard the ragged breathing from them both, hidden in the darkness and the remnants of a disillusionment charm.

_It’s wrong. It’s wrong._

Hermione suddenly couldn’t stand not having the warmth of his body against hers and so she pressed herself up against him fully. She was very soft against him, her body almost molded to fit his own. His heart beat madly in his ears but all he wanted to hear was her. It was in this urgent passion that he felt himself coming apart at the seams.

 Already Hermione was glancing up at him in wanton desire, her breasts pressing lightly onto his chest, a welcoming invitation. He tried to look away, but he couldn’t as Hermione had chosen then to lick her lips slowly, beckoning him.

_Look away you fool.  She’s your student._

Against all inner warnings, he watched in rapt focus as the girl let her eyes fall shut and allowed her wetted lips to part slightly. Without another coherent thought in his lust-addled mind, Snape had dipped his head and captured her willing lips in his.

A thrill went through them both, their hands caught up in one another’s as they plundered each other’s mouths. Hermione sighed gently, not wanting to be heard but also unable to keep silent this monstrous feeling of carnal desire she was feeling for her Professor.

Snape was feeling quite the same, encumbered with an aching erection as the girl pressed up against him, rubbing and causing him to breath heavily through his nose. He wanted her so desperately; he didn’t care for the repercussions. All that mattered was Hermione Granger right here, in his grasp and wanting him.

His mouth was so powerful she felt her head falling back and she welcomed it. If anything she wished that his hands could travel the length of her entire body.  She wanted to feel those tapered fingers on her breast, her cheeks, and more.

As if the enchantment could heed her wishes, all at once their hand’s loosened. 

They pulled back as the diminishing sensation overcame them. Hermione went to say something more, but all words died on her lips as she saw the bright, fiery look her Professor was giving her.  A man that she had always thought of as horrible and unappealing, and now all she wanted was to have him inside her. As if unable to stop himself, Snape pulled her tighter to him once more and she went willingly. He could feel her fingers digging deliciously sharp into his shoulder blades, even through the fabric of his robes. His own hands were cupping her bottom harshly, pulling her groin against his as she groaned lowly against his mouth.

The sound of her lustful groan was what made him stop, quickly pushing the girl back by the shoulders. She stumbled backwards, thankfully not tripping and making a spectacle of herself. He looked as if he had seen a ghost, growing paler – if that were possible.

“You will speak of this to no one,” he hissed, suddenly looking as prickly and spiteful as ever. Hermione was about to say something, anything to understand what had just transpired when the man whipped open the side door and slammed it behind him.

Hermione stared at the closed door for several moments, not quite understanding what had just happened. Had she actually just snogged Professor Snape? And worst of all, had she _enjoyed_ it? She could only imagine the looks on her friend’s faces if they ever found out!

She needed to move. To take stock of what had just occurred and break away from that bloody arch. She tottered across the dance floor, her heart beating madly.  She couldn’t stop this strange bubbling feeling inside her chest. As if she wanted to giggle and scream all at once. It was a bizarre sensation. She calmed herself down a bit before she walked over to where Ginny and Harry stood before the hearth, exchanging presents.

“Oh Harry,” Ginny swooned, pulling the item from its box. “I absolutely adore it!”

Inside was a beautifully designed necklace of ruby and sapphire on a chain that looked light threaded gold. She had just asked him to put it on her when she saw Hermione approach.

“Oh! You’ve come back!”

“Never left actually,” Hermione admitted with an airy shrug. Harry smiled over Ginny’s head as he secured the necklace around her throat.  “Just needed some fresh air.”

“Well I’m so glad you’re back! DIidn’t feel the same with you gone.”

“There,” Harry said proudly, looking to Ginny with adoration as she adjusted the necklace on her sternum. “Just perfect.”

“It’s beautiful,” Hermione had to agree.

Ron and Candace appeared then and Hermione was thankful that her friend made no mention of she and Snape’s bizarre dancing routine. Instead they passed around flutes of champagne and smiled broadly at the familiar faces around them.

“Happy Christmas all! Cheers!”

“Cheers!”

At this everyone began to clink their glasses and sip on their champagne, Ron and Candace snuggled closely to one another on the chaise with Harry’s arm slung around Ginny’s casually. Hermione stood at her elbow, watching the scene with a sudden serene clarity. She was happy. She didn’t want nor did she need Ron. She was going to be just fine.

 “I’m sorry you have to sit through this,” Ginny whispered conspiratorially, not wanting to be heard by the others. She was surprised to see that Hermione didn’t seem put out at all. In fact she seemed rather joyful looking around the room at all the couples and the love.

“Actually, it doesn’t really bother me at all,” Hermione answered truthfully, her smile dopey and rather bizarre on her normally reserved face.  “I’m happy for them. They deserve happiness. We all do.”

“Good,” Ginny said, confused at her friend’s sudden change of tone but relieved that she wouldn’t have to put up with the drama of a best friend and brother at odds with one another. A couple on the dance floor suddenly caught her attention.

“Seems they’ve made up as well,” Harry said, glancing over at Hannah and Neville dancing slowly on the floor. The two were whispering to one another before Hannah placed a gentle kiss on Neville’s lips. The two turned bright red before Neville launched himself against her mouth and the two began to kiss passionately.

 “From slapping to snogging all within an hour,” Ginny said with an amused shake of his head.

“Anything can happen at these parties, I suppose,” Harry said with a laugh, pulling Ginny closer to him and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Yes,” Hermione observed gently. “Anything can happen.”


End file.
